Now What?
by mugglemama
Summary: They survived seven years of unresolved sexual tension and another year of separation.  Hermione's home from Hogwarts – now what?
1. Chapter 1

Written for the inaugural Ron and Hermione Big Bang. This story would not have been possible without the talents and patience of an incredibly gifted crew: urbanmama, undercloackkept, my BFF and #1 cheerleader Dove!

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CHAPTER ONE

I feel like a freaking caged animal.

Worse than that.

An animal in a cage has room to pace – I can barely find room to breathe.

I'm trapped in this effing train station, with what feels every other family in the Wizarding world. If I weren't so anxious, I'd find the whole thing a frigging laugh. All these witches and wizards trying to pass themselves off as Muggles, while trying (but mostly failing) not to stare at 'The Chosen One' as he stands here with us – I even hear an occasional "That's Ron Weasley!" I can't be arsed to care about being recognised right now. I'm just waiting here like everyone else.

Waiting for the Hogwarts Express.

Waiting for that fucking train.

"Where is that fucking train?"

"Ronald!" I hear my mum shriek. Shit, must have said that out loud.

"Relax Mum," George intercedes, "he's just anxious is all." Throwing an arm around my shoulders, he whispers, "and more than gagging for it I'd wager."

"Shut up you wanker!" I hiss.

"Seems to me you're the wanker here, Mr. Blue Balls."

I hear Harry snigger at George's comment, earning him a sharp glare, which is not too effective (really, how scary can your best mate be after you've stared evil in the face and practically spit at it – but I still gotta try).

"Hermione's parents are right there, so _shut up_!" I say in my most menacing whisper. I chance a glance at Mr and Mrs Granger, where they are standing talking to my dad. Actually, looks like he's doing all the talking while they just stand there nodding politely. God, I hope he's not explaining his theory on aeroplanes again.

As luck would have it, Mr Granger looks over at this exact moment. I give him what I hope is a friendly smile, one that says 'Hey, I'm a nice bloke – not some perv who dreams of doing all kinds of things with your only daughter, and has already managed to convince her to let me try a fair few of them already.' Not that Hermione needs much convincing.

Must not have worked, all I get in return from Hermione's father is a curt nod. _What the hell's that look about?_ Hermione's parents have always been right friendly towards me. I don't have much time to dwell on Mr Granger's behaviour, because George gives me an elbow to the ribs. "There she is!" he shouts.

_Finally_!

I feel my heart jump into my throat — and promptly crash down to my feet when all I see is a blur of red hair rush past me and into my best mate's arms, no bushy brown hair in sight.

"Harry!" Ginny squeals as she launches herself at Harry, kissing him hard on the mouth.

"Oi!" George shouts, causing them to break apart. I can't help but laugh.

How do you like being interrupted from a snog you've waited forever for? Not too fun, is it Potter?

"You mind taking a break from swallowing our sister's tongue long enough for us to say hello?" George asks, causing Mum to hiss and Dad to blush.

Harry flushes and steps back, staring at the train station floor. "Um, er, right … sorry," he mutters.

I immediately jump in front of Ginny before anyone else can get their hands on her. "Where's Hermione?"

"Nice to see you too, Ron. I really appreciate your congratulations on my finishing Hogwarts. My NEWTS went well, thanks for asking," Ginny replies with a falsely sweet smile on her face.

I pull her roughly into a hug. Not that I don't love my sister and am not glad she's back – but, damn, she can be a brat.

"Yeah, yeah, congrats," I pat her on the back (not too hard, Mum's watching), "'m sure you did fine." I hold her by her slight shoulders and stare down at her. "Now, where's Hermione?"

Ginny just rolls her eyes at my attempt to look intimidating (remind me to work on my glower). "She's still on the platform, probably be the last through the barrier I reckon, says it's her final duty as Head Girl to make certain everyone is off the train and properly sorted."

"Sounds like your 'Head Girl' all right, eh Ron?" George said, emphasising Hermione's school title with a lascivious laugh, as he pushes Ron me to give Ginny a much warmer greeting than I managed.

More and more students are exiting the barrier, in their orderly groups of twos and threes. The crowd is full of people welcoming their loved ones.

Where the _fuck_ is my loved one!

"Sod it! I can't take this anymore." I push my way through the crowd, leaving the Grangers and my family standing gobsmacked behind me.

I pass through the barrier onto Platform 9¾, where I'm immediately pulled aside by a more senior Auror. "Weasley! What are you doing here? You aren't on duty."

Fuck!

"I've a message for the Head Girl about the, uh, student roster," I lie, hoping Auror Johnson doesn't know about my relationship with the Hogwarts Head Girl.

"She's at the end of the Platform, talking with Ainsley. Head Boy's right there," Johnson says with a jerk of his head toward the queue of students waiting to exit the platform, "rounding up the sprogs, if you wanna pass him the message."

I look over and easily spot the swotty Ravenclaw from Ginny's year who served as Head Boy. _Pompous Arse._ His name might be Andrew Lewis, but to me he is simply Pompous Arse.

And no, it's not some irrational jealousy that he was Head Boy with Hermione. He really is a Pompous Arse.

I swear.

"No can do, gotta give it to Hermio– er, Miss Granger."

Johnson laughs – and smiles (both exceedingly rare occurrences) – "Oh, I'm sure you have _plenty_ to give to Miss Granger." He waives his hand at me. "Off with you then, you've kept your young lady waiting long enough."

So much for my love life being any kind of a secret. No time to worry about that now.

"Um, okay then … cheers." I make my way around the crowd of students and run down the platform toward the end of the train. I spot Hermione standing with her back to me, talking with another senior Auror.

_Damn_, she looks good! Mmmm … still in uniform.

Just as Auror Ainsley steps back on the train, Hermione turns around, a broad smile instantly lights her face when she sees me.

"What are you doing here?" she laughs as I rush forward and easily pick her off the ground. I love that I can do that.

"Couldn't wait," I mumble before capturing her mouth.

It's about fucking time!

It's not that I haven't seen her since she left for school in September. We've actually been pretty lucky, what with Hogsmeade visits and Quidditch matches (to finally get to take her in the Quidditch tent – years worth of wanking dreams come true!), holidays and the like.

But now she's home.

This isn't a quick visit or a shag against the wall hoping no one spots us.

We made it. This fucking awful year is over and we made it! She's home to stay, and she's mine.

And I'm kissing her like a condemned man having his last meal before the Dementors have at him.

I know I should be gentle. I know I should be tender. But there's a time for those kinds of kisses – and this isn't it.

Hermione obviously agrees since she's kissing me back with just as much passion.

As always.

"We really shouldn't do this here," she pants as she kisses my jaw, moaning when I reach down to grab her arse, pulling her harder against me.

She might have a point.

"C'mon," I tug on her hand and we stumble over to hide behind one of the columns lining the platform. I press Hermione back on the rough bricks, safely out of sight from the Hogwarts Express.

"This better?" I ask, not bothering to wait for a reply before finding her lips once again.

I push my hard cock against her hip, my leg pressing between hers; she feels so good against me, her soft body yielding to mine. She wraps one knee-sock-clad leg around my calf and presses back, humming her approval into my mouth and rubbing herself along my thigh.

"Can't believe you're finally home … fucking missed you so much." Her hair muffles my voice as I kiss my way from one side of her neck to the other, stopping to tongue the hollow of her throat the way she likes.

Her skin tastes so fucking good!

"Gonna lick every inch of you," I groan.

"Promise?" Hermione asks, tilting her head back to give me better access, while clutching wildly at my back – trying to bring our bodies even closer. Can't get much closer with clothes on, I'm afraid.

Fuck yeah, I promise. Before I can tell her, the Hogwarts Express lets out a loud whistle accompanied by a huge blast of steam, causing us both to jump. Through the fog in my brain, I hear a conductor yelling, "All clear!"

Hermione reluctantly untangles her leg and I remove my hand from under her skirt. I'm going to miss this uniform. Wonder if I can get her to wear it again for me some time – relive old times and all…

Quit it, Weasley! Now is NOT the time!

I lean my head against the wall over Hermione's shoulder, trying to think of something to calm my raging stiffy before my mum sees it.

_Mum_.

Yep, that did it.

"We – we should go," Hermione says breathlessly.

"Yeah … yeah, you're right. Our parents–"

"Oh no! My parents…"

"Don't worry, Dad's been keeping 'em company," I assure her. Not that the Grangers seemed too thrilled with the idea.

"Then we really better hurry," Hermione says with a smile.

"Oh ho ho, aren't you a funny one."

I give her kiss on the nose before grabbing her hand and heading back toward the train. "Where's your stuff?"

"On the trolley over there." She points to the solitary luggage trolley loaded with her trunk, Crookshanks' carrier sitting on top. I bend down so I'm face to face with Hermione's cat.

"Still alive I see." Crookshanks responds with a loud hiss. Bloody typical. Too fucking bad for him. I lean in closer and tell the fur ball, "Better get over it mate, I'm not going anywhere."

"When you're done tormenting my cat, we can get going." Hermione says as she smacks me on my bum.

"Oi woman, mind your hands!"

I hold of the trolley's handle and steer it toward the portal to the Muggle portion of Kings Cross Station, practising my intimidating glare on Crookshanks as we go.

Just before we cross through, Hermione stops and tugs on my elbow. "I love you, Ron," she tells me in response to my questioning look. "Thank you for waiting for me."

Thank _me_? Mental, this one.

"Least I could do – you waited seven years for me to get my head out of my arse – one year away at school seemed like a fair trade-off to me." Hermione shakes her head and laughs. I pull her into arms and kiss the crown of her head. See? I can be gentle.

"Besides," I tell her, "it's all over; now we can do whatever we want."

"I like the sound of that." Hermione burrows herself tighter into my arms. I want to freeze this moment.

Unfortunately my stomach doesn't agree; it lets out a loud gurgle.

"And right now, I want food apparently. C'mon, let's go find our family."

_Our_ family. Is that right?

Well, Hermione's my family, no doubt about that; so I guess my parents and siblings plus her parents together make up _our_ family. I like the sound of that. Not that I'll tell anyone – a man's gotta have some dignity.

She links her arm through mine as I push the trolley through the wall … to be instantly greeted by my shrieking mother.

"There you are! The last students passed through ages ago – well, never mind," she gives a dismissive wave of her hand, "you're here now." Mum wraps her arms tightly around Hermione. "Welcome home, dear."

I can see my siblings sniggering in the background. I'm just about to say something to shut them up, when I spy the scowls on the faces of Hermione's parents.

What the hell? Maybe I'm imaging things? I have been known to exaggerate things every now and then.

Once Hermione's finished being smothered by my mum, she steps forward to give her own mum a hug.

The welcome Hermione receives from her parents is less restrained, but no less loving. At least the scowls are gone. Soon Hermione is jostled and passed among various Weasleys as they welcome her home. George and Dad head off, with Mum in tow, to load Ginny's trunk in the Ministry car they borrowed.

"I'm going to miss seeing you everyday, Hermione," Ginny says as she gives Hermione a squeeze. "Who's going to make certain I keep my room clean while I'm away at training camp?"

"I'm sure you can manage on your own," Hermione laughs. Her voice starts to crack when she adds, "Thanks for everything, Ginny. I couldn't have made it through this year without you." I wrap her tiny hand in mine and squeeze, wanting to remind her it's all behind us.

"I'm so proud of you, Hermione," Harry says when it's his turn to hug Hermione. Stepping back, he asks, "You all coming to the Burrow for dinner?"

"No, we won't be joining you," Mr Granger responds. "As I explained to Arthur, we have other plans."

"But Dad–" Hermione starts, looking surprised. So am I, I thought we had this all worked out.

"We have reservations for the three of us at the Ivy - you know how difficult those are to come by, Hermione," Mrs Granger explains, giving me a quick glance. "It's been so long since your father and I have had you to ourselves, darling." She took Hermione's hand. "Surely you understand."

"Of course, it's just…" Hermione looks over at me … torn between her parents and me.

"Perhaps you could all get together tomorrow evening?" Mrs Granger offers.

Okay, I know I did _not_ imagine that frown Mr Granger just gave at her suggestion. And I can't see Hermione tomorrow night. Bugger!

"Um, actually, Harry and I are both on duty tomorrow – double shifts," I say, dejected. "We were lucky to get today free, it took some juggling."

If only … hey, I've got it!

"What about Sunday, Hermione? I'm off all day; we could go to the Burrow for breakfast and then spend the whole day together!" And I can take you up to the orchard and we can shag each other senseless like we did last summer.

"Oh that would be brilliant, Ron. I'd love that!"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Mr Granger interjects again.

Now I'm getting pissed off.

"Why not?" Hermione shouts. Apparently so is Hermione. That's my girl.

"Calm down, dear," Mrs Granger soothes. "We were going to tell you at dinner … we've arranged for a holiday–"

"Now?" Hermione's annoyance with her parents is increasing at a frenetic pace.

I try to catch Harry's eye, to see if he's picking up these hostile vibes from the Grangers, but Harry is busy in conversation with Ginny.

I tune back into Hermione's confrontation with her parents, just in time to hear her say, "It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, Mum, but I start at the Ministry in two weeks … I have so much to do to prepare."

Wise move to play up the job angle; her parents usually give in to her desire to work hard.

"And there's … Ron," Hermione adds meekly. Uh-oh.

"I'm sure Ronald will be here when we get back from France," Mr Granger says sharply. "I've already paid the Pendergasts for the use of their villa so this discussion is moot. We leave for Antibes Sunday morning."

Hermione looks ready to explode at her father's tone, but before she can, Harry interjects. "Hermione, a bunch of us are getting together later tonight at the Leaky," he says.

"We are?" I ask – only to be jabbed in the side by Ginny. "Ow."

"Why don't you join us after dinner with your parents?" Harry continued, ignoring me and Ginny's antics. "George will be there, probably Neville… "

"That would be lovely, Harry. Thank you." Hermione shoots her father a pointed glare. "I will definitely be there … say 10:00?"

"Excellent, see you then." Harry turns to Hermione's father, "Can I give you a hand with Hermione's things? I know Crookshanks can be quite a handful." He doesn't even wait for Mr Granger to respond, he simply takes charge of the trolley and starts walking toward the exit, Mrs Granger and Ginny trailing behind.

I owe him one.

"I'm so sorry Ron," Hermione apologises, wrapping her arms around me. "I had no idea they had something like this planned."

"It'll be nice for you to get away, get some sun." I try to sound supportive. "We'll see each other tonight … maybe pick up where we left off earlier, yeah?"

Please let us pick up where we left off.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that. Can't wait to see your new flat." She looks up at me, a teasing smile on her face, "I hope you cleaned your room."

"Clean sheets and everything," I tell her proudly, causing her to laugh.

Not really worth mentioning Kreacher's the one who cleaned it. 'Sides I paid him … well, I mean, I _offered_ to pay him. Not my fault he wouldn't take it.

"Come on," I take her hand and head out of the station, "the sooner we get you off with your parents, the sooner I can get you all to myself."

The sooner we can dirty those sheets of mine.

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**So, what did you think? Please let me know! ~Mugglemama**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"Will you stop fidgeting?" Ginny hisses, with a sharp kick to my shin for emphasis.

"C'mon Ginny, leave him be," Harry says, trying to calm his harpy of a girlfriend.

She really is, a Harpy I mean – starts training camp in Holyhead in two weeks.

"She'll be here, Ron, don't worry." Harry's tone sounds like he's talking to a bleedin' toddler. "I'm sure she's just busy catching up with her parents."

That reminds me…

"Did anybody else notice the Grangers seemed a bit…_tense_?" I ask, not sure what I want the answer to be.

"Yeah," Harry says, taking a pull of his ale. "Her dad mostly, thought you said he liked you?"

"He does…or did…I don't fucking know anymore."

"Maybe he caught you shagging his only daughter?" George offers as he slides onto the bench next to me, delivering another round of drinks and some chips.

"Nah, doubt that's it."

"Why not? Most of us have caught you two going at it," George says, stuffing a chip in his mouth.

"Ha bloody ha," I mock, tossing back my Firewhisky. "Barmy girl casts a _Parentus Repellum_ just for a quick snog good night."

Before we can solve the mystery of what crawled up Mr Granger's arse, I spot Hermione rushing in the front door of the pub.

Damn she looks good. She's obviously frantic about being so late (almost an hour and a half!). She's scanning the pub and working herself into a state. I really shouldn't let her get too worked up, though she does look pretty hot, what with the heavy breathing and wild hair.

I'm about to call out to her, but she finally spots me. She instantly relaxes and flashes me a brilliant smile. She's wearing a little white button up jumper over one of those summer dress thingies she bought last year – the kind I _know_ for a fact she doesn't wear a bra under.

_Fuck me_.

I jab George in his side. "Oi, budge over."

He spots Hermione as she approaches our booth and he slides over on the bench – slamming me into the wall. I shove him back, and he almost falls onto the floor.

"What? You told me to move over." George does his best impression of an innocent face, causing Hermione to laugh. Can't get too mad at the tosser for doing that.

George gets up and gives Hermione a quick hug, telling her how glad he is she's back. "Maybe now this one will stop moping so much and actually get some work done," he says, nodding in my direction.

I see a flash of concern across Hermione's face. Doubt anyone but me notices. She's been dropping hints that I should leave the shop altogether now that I'm in the field more with my Auror squad.

Shit, it's not like I can just abandon George; she's must understand that.

George announces that he's off to meet up with Lee and Angelina. Giving Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, he says, "Careful on those French beaches, make sure you do a strong sun block charm. Don't wanna burn Ron's favourite play things." With that he waves and heads for the door.

Hermione looks appalled and Harry and Ginny are sniggering; I don't quite get the joke.

By now I'm standing right in front of Hermione. I put my hands on her waist and give her a questioning look. She's flushed and won't quite meet my eyes; she seems embarrassed.

Finally Ginny laughs, "French beaches are notoriously _topless_, Ron."

What? No way. I look at Harry, who's blushing like a Weasley and trying not to laugh (not trying hard enough, the git). He nods in agreement.

"Oh hell no!"

I tighten my hold on Hermione. "I forbid it! There is no way those slimy French blokes are getting' a look at your ti–"

"Excuse me?" Hermione raises an eyebrow and purses her lips slightly. Shit. Step one in the Hermione Granger row preparation. Step two is hands on hips; luckily they are still resting on my shoulders, so there's time to save myself.

"Er … uh, what I mean is…"

"Don't you trust my concealment charms, Ron?" She's moved her hands to play with my hair now, so I know she's teasing me.

"I know better than anyone how good they are," I quietly tease right back, pulling her closer. I let my hands wander low on her back, just grazing the top of her knickers.

The evil girl goes in for the kill, whispering in my ear, "Don't worry Ron, these tits are for your eyes only."

She knows how wild it makes me to hear her say things like 'tits' or 'cock'. Last time we shagged, I swear she said 'fuck' – though she swears she didn't.

Harry clears his throat, getting our attention. Good thing too, I'm about to throw her on the table and take her right here.

Hermione slides into the bench next to me. I immediately lay my arm around her shoulder and she rests her hand high on my leg.

"I'm really sorry I'm so late," she says breathlessly, squeezing my thigh. "My parents had so much to talk about."

Harry gives me a nervous glance and I bite my tongue. I don't want to spoil tonight by getting into it about her parents.

"Did I miss Neville?" Hermione asks, searching the crowded pub.

"Yeah, he left a while ago," Harry says.

"With Hannah Abbott," Ginny interjects, anxious to share the gossip.

As the two girls speculate over poor Neville's love life, I can't help by think how lucky we are. I swear I thought this day would never come – we're all sitting around talking and laughing…and it feels so _normal_.

Finally, after a few rounds, Ginny pipes up, "I should be getting home, Mum'll worry." She lets out the most fake yawn I've ever seen. "Besides, I'm rather tired." She turns to Harry and smiles in a way a bloke doesn't like to see his little sister smile – especially at his best mate. "Will you see me home, Harry?"

"You're of age, you can see yourself home." I know what she has in mind, and believe me, I don't want Harry anywhere near our flat tonight, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Think maybe George is rubbing off on me.

"No, I don't mind…might even join you…I mean stay over, if you don't think your parents would mind…uh, in Ron's room of course."

Poor Harry almost strained something trying to get that sentence out. Hermione squeezes my leg hard, almost as if in warning. Doesn't she know I'm just having a laugh?

"We should be going as well; we'll walk you out." Hermione budges against me, pushing me out of the booth.

Once Harry and Ginny leave, Hermione turns to me and gives me a sexy smirk. "I believe you had some place you wanted to show me."

"What are we waiting for?" I wrap my arms around her in preparation for Side-Along Apparition to my new flat. I can't resist giving her a quick kiss before we go.

"Don't get distracted," she says. "Remember: destination, determination, deliberation."

I give her lush arse a squeeze, "I think you'll find I'm very determined."

With that, I turn on the spot and when we next feel solid ground we are standing outside the door to the flat Harry and I moved into the week after Easter. (Once he and Ginny got back together, he felt awkward living at the Burrow – probably had something to do with Mum catching with his hand up Ginny's shirt over the Easter hols).

I catch Hermione quickly scanning to make sure everything is there – that I haven't splinched her. _Damn, I Apparate all over Britain every day, I think I can handle a little trip across London._

"So, here we are," I announce. Why do I feel a little nervous? Stupid really, not like I've never been alone with Hermione before. This just feels different. It feels grown up or something, taking my girl to my flat for the night – no parents, no best mate snoring in the next bed, no interruptions. Just me and Hermione – all alone, all night.

"You've gained some patience in your old age, Weasley. I figured you'd bring us straight to your bedroom." Her arms are wrapped around my waist and I feel her laugh against my back. Right now I don't even know if we'll even make it to my bedroom. This door seems pretty sturdy…

My hand's a little shaky as I move my wand over the entrance to our flat. _Focus, you can't get this spell wrong_.

Harry and I agreed that we would alter the wards to allow Hermione in at any time. For anyone else, either me or Harry has to be the one to turn the handle to open the door, either from the inside or out. We're also the only people who can enter by Apparition.

Harry wanted to extend the blood magic to include Ginny, but I explained that having the blood of two Weasleys might be enough to let all Weasleys pass and did he _really_ want my mum to be able to Apparate in as she pleases. Plus, I didn't like the idea of Ginny being able to pop in just to shag my mate. I didn't tell him that last bit, of course.

He took the mickey something awful for all the research I did on the spell, called me a swot and Percy Jr. If it gets Hermione in my bed whenever she wants, I don't give a Hippogriff's arse what he calls me.

"Well, if I did that, Hermione, I couldn't do this…" I complete my wand work and turn her so she's beside me in front of the door. I take her hand, holding it over the doorknob. "This might hurt," I whisper. With my wand, I make a small prick in her finger while she gasps softly.

"Sorry." I wince as I squeeze her small finger until a sizeable drop of blood appears, then I hold it over the handle. As her blood begins to fall, I murmur an incantation, causing the handle to glow brighter as each drop makes contact.

"This is very complicated magic, Ron." I wouldn't quite call it a tone of surprise … but it's pretty close.

"I am an Auror Hermione, I _can_ do complicated spells, you know." I try really hard to keep my voice steady.

"Of course," she says, staring down at the floor and looking chastised.

_Great, now you've done it, you giant pillock._

The spell is complete, and I bring her finger to my lips for a kiss before I heal it. I get a shy smile in return.

I can't help myself; I suck her finger gently before moving on to kiss each of her fingers. When I place a kiss into the palm of her hand, I'm rewarded with a sigh of "Oh, Ron." She moves her hand to the side of my face, and I kiss the soft inside of her wrist. I can feel her blood pulsing under my lips.

"You can go in now," I murmur into her skin. "No need to have me or Harry with you next time, you can get through the wards no problem." My voice sounds hoarse and scratchy to my ears.

"There's a password too, for unlocking the door, if you don't want to use Apparition. Just _Alohomora_ and then say 'Wronksi Feint'."

Hermione rolls her eyes at the Quidditch reference. She then takes my face gently between her hands and kisses my mouth lightly. "I love you," she whispers.

Suddenly I don't care if she thinks I can't _Apparate_ further than the corner or am only capable of the simplest of spells.

She loves me, that's enough.

And I love her.

I want her.

I _need_ her.

When Hermione turns to open the door, I lean in and kiss her neck, whispering, "I love you." I get the response I hoped for – shivers and a small whimper. Once we go through this door things will change, I'm certain of it.

I suppress a shout of joy when the spell works and Hermione passes through the wards without difficulty.

Our lives together can finally begin.

And I can finally shag Hermione – it's been _way_ too long.

I'm so freaking hard right now, I wish I _had_ taken us straight to my room and done the spell later.

"So, are you going to give me the grand tour?"

She has _got_ to be fucking kidding me.

"Fine." I grab her hand and practically pull her down the hall. "Here, this is the kitchen," I say pointing toward the open door on the right; she tries to take a closer look but this tour is on a tight schedule. "Leads into the lounge – nice big sofa, perfect for taking a kip, I actually fit."

"Oh! Are you connected to the Floo?" she asks when she spots the fireplace as I drag her through the room.

"Calls only, we have to invite people through." She's giggling now as I continue hurrying her towards the back hall.

I point to the first door on the left, "Harry's room. Never go in there."

She stops abruptly. "Why?"

I shudder as I remember walking in on Harry having it off, moaning my sister's name.

"Just trust me," I say, tugging on her arm. "Or at least make sure you knock first – loudly."

I open the door across from Harry's. "This is the bath; enlarged tub." I pause here, thinking of Hermione submerged in our large bath, soap bubbles clinging to the most delicious places, her wet legs wrapped around my–

"Looks nice," Hermione whispers in my ear, pulling me from my fantasies. Why fantasise, when I have the real thing right here?

The bath can wait till later.

"C'mon." I take her hand and lead her on, the rushing about over. I open the door at the end of the hall.

"My room."

She walks around, taking it all in. I close the door behind us, not bothering to lock or cast an _Impertubable_ on it, no need – it's just us tonight.

"It's not orange," she laughs. "And only one Cannons poster, you've come a long way."

"Yeah, well, the team signed this one, had to hang it up," I say, waving toward the autographed poster.

Hermione sits on the edge of my large bed – finally I get to sleep on a bed that's long enough – and smiles up at me.

Fast as a snidget, I'm across the room and kissing her. I take her beautiful face in my hands, burying my fingers in her mad hair.

Gods I love kissing Hermione. All passion and heat … the things that swotty mouth of hers can do…

I've move my lips to her neck and suck that spot I discovered last summer, earning me a sexy moan. Pushing her silly little jumper down and off her arms, I kiss the hidden freckles on her shoulders, tugging her thin dress strap down with my teeth. I can't stop my hand from reaching up and grabbing a handful of her breast – her moan tells me she's damn glad I have no self-control.

"Missed you," I groan, kissing my way back to her mouth.

"Love you," she whispers, grazing the shell of my ear with her teeth. Drives me mental, she knows how feckin' sensitive my ears are.

I have to feel more of her against me, so I press forward until Hermione is stretched out under me on my bed, her leg wrapping around mine, pulling me closer, her hands squeezing my arse.

I'll never understand her fascination with my bony arse. I've learned not to question it and just be grateful.

My hands and mouth seem to take on a will of their own. I'm kneading, kissing, and biting my way down her body. Words like _want_ and _need_ and _love_ escape between panting breaths and moans of each other's name.

Hermione's dress has hitched up, offering me a flash of blue knickers. I rub my palm between her legs before I slide my hand down her legs to slip off her shoes.

She's tugging on my shirt so I sit up on my knees, straddling one of her legs. As I pull up my shirt, Hermione kisses my stomach, her hands on my arse again, her teeth nipping at the trail of ginger hair that leads down to my cock.

By the time I get my T-shirt over my head and across the room, Hermione is already working on opening my trousers and shoving them past my hips. I bite back my shout of relief once the cool air hits my aching cock. Hermione wraps her hand around my hard-on, stroking it from root to tip.

I struggle to get my clothes all the way off, catching my trousers on my feet and causing Hermione to laugh that delicious laugh of hers.

Stupid shoes.

I finally manage to get everything off, including my socks – Hermione's got this weird thing about shagging with socks on. I look down at Hermione's smiling face. She has way too many clothes on.

I need her naked.

Now.

"Hermione," I gasp, gathering her dress in my hands and trying – and failing – to pull it up, which gets me another laugh.

A bloke could really get a complex from all this laughter when messing around.

"There's a zipper," she says in her best 'Know-It-All' voice.

I try not to growl in frustration.

When her hands reach behind her back for the zip, I stop her.

"Let me."

I lean forward and pull the zip down as far as I can reach. I slide the straps all the way down her arms and pull the front of her dress loose, causing her tits to spill out.

"Lay down," I tell her, kissing her as she rests back against the pillows. My hands instantly reach for her breasts, rolling her hard nipples between my fingers. Her tits are so sensitive. I'll never forget the time I got her off just snogging and playing with her breasts.

"Oh God, Ron," Hermione moans – the sound goes straight to my cock. I tug at her dress again; can't get it all the way down. Must still be zipped.

"Turn over so I can this damned thing off."

"Doesn't matter, just leave it," she pants, squirming under me, eager as I am.

Not this time. This isn't a quick shag under the Quidditch stands or in a cupboard where we might get caught. I want to do this right.

"Turn over, Hermione," I say in my most commanding Auror-like voice. I don't know if that'll earn me a kick in the bollocks or not, but it's worth a shot.

She quickly flips on her stomach with a breathy moan. Oh, I definitely have to remember to do _that_ again.

I straddle her legs, find the zip pull and yank. Finally I can get this bloody nuisance off.

After I toss her dress aside, I'm left with the sight of her bare back and perfect arse covered by a scrap of blue. Before she can turn over, I lean forward and run my hands up the back of her legs, over her knickers and onto her back.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the feel of Hermione's skin, it's just so fucking soft. I'm not pressing hard, like I do when I rub her tired muscles, sore from hunching over ridiculously large books. In fact, I'm barely touching her.

I trail a finger along the centre of her back, straight down her spine. Don't know the right word to describe Hermione's bare back. Elegant maybe? Definitely sexy.

I'm relieved to see she's not as skinny as she used to be; she's been taking care of herself at school. I remember holding her that night, after _that bitch_ tortured her, and hating myself for not keeping her safe – protected. Not just from scum like Greyback or the fucking Malfoys – I couldn't even keep her fed. It was my duty to take care of her, and I failed. As I held her crying body in my arms that night I swear I felt every ridge of bone on her skinny back. I remember being amazed at how such a strong woman could feel so fragile.

It didn't take long for Fleur's rich food and Mum's nagging to put some meat on her bones. I worried she'd forget to eat back at Hogwarts, but it looks like she's been well fed; another thing to be grateful to the house-elves for, I reckon.

There's a large single freckle, just off-centre, by her shoulder blade. When I lean over to kiss it, I feel her shiver underneath me. As she wriggles, my aching cock rubs against her silk-covered bum.

Damn that feels incredible. I have to do that again.

I place my hands on either side of Hermione's body and bend to kiss her shoulders and neck, pulling her hair aside and telling her how much I love her. I can't help grinding my prick against her lush arse.

She's moaning my name; doesn't seem like she's able to say much else. I know exactly how she feels.

I move my body back so my lips can kiss down the line of her back till I reach the waistband of her knickers. I slowly pull them down her lean legs and throw them across the room; we can find them in the morning.

What a gorgeous sight – Hermione Granger stretched out naked under me.

Before she can roll over, I decide to make good on my promise to lick every inch of her.

I start on the backs of her legs, kissing and licking my way up from her ankles. I know better than to mess with her feet. Too damn ticklish – nothing spoils the mood like a broken nose, learnt that the hard way.

When I get to the back of her knee, she starts squirming. "Ron! That tickles!"

"Not gonna break my nose again, are you?"

"I'll break something if you don't–"

I place my hand on her arse to keep her in place, my thumb dipping between her legs, teasing her wet fanny. "If I don't 'what', Hermione?"

"Move…God, Ron, please…"

I kiss her right thigh, then her left, moving closer to that delicious bum of hers. I trail my tongue along the curve of her plump cheeks.

One thing's for sure – no matter how skinny she gets, Hermione always seems to have a perfect round arse. I love the way it fits in my hands, like it was fucking made for me.

Hermione's arching up under me, lifting her arse higher in the air, trying to draw my attention to her fanny.

I have to taste her.

"Patience, Hermione." I suck a bum cheek savagely, leaving a large love bite behind. I move to tease her cunt with my tongue, and then lick up the crevice of her arse. When I knead her bum cheeks roughly, I catch a glimpse of her tight ring.

So fucking tempting – I _did_ say I'd lick every inch …

I dart my tongue out and give it a few quick flicks. Hermione squeals loudly and her arse jumps in the air.

I move on quickly, before she can think too much on it …

"You're so soft, Hermione." I run my tongue up her spine slowly, enjoying the slightly salty taste of her skin. "You taste so good," I whisper as I kiss her neck.

My cock is resting in the crack of her arse, sliding between her firm cheeks as I move back and forth. How can her skin feel even softer than her knickers did?

"Ron …" She's looking over her shoulder at me – so beautiful, so freaking sexy – lifting her hips off the bed and urging me to take her.

I have to kiss her.

So I do.

I ease my body off hers enough so she can turn all the way over. Her hands clutch at my back, my arse – pulling me closer. I can feel her eager dampness pressed on my cock as it rocks against her clit. So close…

I kiss her neck, licking the sweat from the hollow of her throat. I run my tongue between her brilliant tits, making my way from one to the other – leaving love bites on a path to her stomach. I can't help swirling my tongue in her belly button, making Hermione laugh and squirm.

"Come here." Hermione grabs my arm and pulls me back up her body before my mouth can travel any lower. "Enough," she says.

"Now." She wraps her legs around me, hooking her feet behind me.

"Now," I agree, sliding my leaking dick deep inside her.

_Buggering fucking hell._

I'm trying to go slow, make this last, but it's almost bloody impossible with the way Hermione's moving under me, making those amazing little whimpering sounds of hers with each thrust.

My brain shuts off as I move faster and harder. Next thing I know, I've rolled us over and Hermione is riding me, my hands on her arse guiding her up and down until she's squeezing my cock and crying my name. My mind is a blur of words and sensations: _hot_, _wet_, _tight_ until I'm shouting and coming too.

"Fuck, Hermione!"

She collapses against me, her brilliant tits sliding against my sweaty chest, her breath hot in my ear as she hums contentedly over my shoulder.

"Nice to do it in bed for once," she sighs.

"Nice to do it anywhere," I tease as I smack her arse lightly. "Besides, I thought you liked the broom cupboard." We last managed to shag in the cupboard off the Entrance Hall when I came up to Hogwarts for the last Quidditch match of the year. I really didn't give a shit about Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, but I'd be damned if I'd have missed a chance to see Hermione.

Hermione laughs and leans up on her elbows to smile down at me. "The broom cupboard was lovely." She wipes my hair back off my damp forehead. "You're lovely."

I pull a face. "Blokes aren't lovely, Hermione." I squeeze her arse roughly, to assert non-lovely manliness. She offers a sexy combination laugh/moan in response.

_Hmm…wonder if I can keep my cock inside her until Round Two…_

Hermione obviously has other plans, as she shifts her body up, releasing my spent cock to flop against my thigh.

Next thing I know Hermione's hopped out of bed and is scanning the room.

"Where are my knickers?"

"Why? No one's here, you can go to the loo starkers – in fact…" I bounce off the bed and meet her over by the wardrobe, where she's found her lost knickers. "What say I draw us a bath? Clean up the Muggle way, yeah?"

"Sounds lovely Ron, but I can't. Oh, is that your wand?" She bends over – Fuck, the sight of her naked arse is giving me a chubby already – and pulls my wand out of my discarded trousers.

She casts a non-verbal over the two of us and the familiar tingle of a cleansing charm washes over me. My wand is tossed on the bed as Hermione pulls on her knickers.

"Now … where'd my dress get off to?"

_Wait, what the fuck? _

_Where the hell is she going?_

"You're leaving?" I ask, gobsmacked.

"Well, yes, Ron. I need to get home." She steps into her dress, practically twisting her arms off trying to get the zip up. Fuck if I'll help her.

"No!" _That's not the plan, dammit!_ "You're supposed to spend the night … we're gonna shag ourselves into a stupor and fall asleep naked then wake and do it again…repeating the process until I have to report to work tomorrow."

Hermione plops down on my rumpled bed and eases on her shoes. The look on her face as she sighs tells me she doesn't _want_ to leave.

"You've obviously given this a lot of thought."

I nod in agreement, feeling myself blush a little. It's obscene how much I've thought about this night – the night we'd finally be together.

She stands and crosses over to me, wrapping her arms tightly around my naked body. "I'm sorry," she murmurs into my chest. "My father made it very clear he'd be waiting up for me, I _have_ to go."

"But you're going away." Not proud to admit I sound like a whinging schoolboy.

"Just for two weeks." Ever the voice of reason, my Hermione. "We've been apart longer."

"You'll be back for Ginny's party, yeah? Before she leaves for training camp?"

I feel her cringe against me. "We won't be back until late that Sunday." Before I can protest, she continues, "Ginny and I are having tea tomorrow, while you and Harry are working. I'm sure she'll understand."

_Good, maybe she can explain it to me._

She pulls back a little and smiles up at me, trying to look brave. "I'll miss you." She reaches one hand up to play with my hair, while the other scratches lightly up and down my back. "I love you," she whispers against my mouth before kissing me.

"Love you," I reply, once I reluctantly release her lips.

She steps away from me, picks her jumper off the floor and _Disapparates_, leaving me feeling unbelievably cold – standing alone and naked in the middle of my bedroom.

_Now what?_ I ask myself.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this_.

* * *

A/N: Art to accompany this chapter can be found here: ericahpfa [dot] deviantart [dot] com /#/d31zxl9 You MUST see it – it's STUNNING! (Delete the spaces and replace the [dot]s with . ) Link also on my profile page :)

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	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The past two weeks have sucked balls.

Big sweaty hairy balls.

Not Harry's balls – that's disgusting.

Speaking of Harry, I expect he's already at the Burrow. Last I saw him, he said he was going straight there after work to spend the weekend 'saying good-bye' to Ginny before she leaves for training camp Monday.

Just hope my parents don't catch them 'saying goodbye.'

The regular workday was over hours ago.

We've been planning and training all week for tonight's raid. We thought we had those fucking Snatchers cornered – next thing you know, it's chaos – a goddamned ambush. It all went to shit faster than a first year after eating one of George's Snappy Crappy Cupcakes Reminded me of Hogwarts, the battle…so much blood…

I shiver, remembering Anderson's severed arm – and him with a newborn babe at home. I just hope there's some kind of way to regrow it. The only cure I know of involves dark magic. The thought of Wormtail's silver hand – the one that killed him – won't stay out of my mind.

My shoulder's killing me. I know I should have stayed at St. Mungo's to get it checked out, but I just wanted to get home. So instead, I Apparated directly into our kitchen. Now I just need a drink more than anything.

Well, not more than _anything_…but since Hermione's still in France, my old friend Ogden's will have to do.

I haven't heard from Hermione since the morning after she got back from Hogwarts. She sent me an owl saying her parents had invited some friends along on the trip to France, so I shouldn't send her any owl post or Patronus messages while she was gone. Even when she was away at school I could contact her; she was never more than a happy memory away. Plus, I could count on receiving post from her at least once a day – often more.

As I take a glass down from the cupboard, I wonder what I'd tell her about tonight, if I were able to talk to her. Some things about this job are best kept to one's self, or only shared with other Aurors. Part of me wants to protect her from the darkness I see everyday; she's experienced enough for two lifetimes. Hell, we both have…but this is my job now, can't be a whinger about it – I have to suck it up and deal with it. Eyeing the bottle in my hand, I decide the first step is a little self-medicating.

I shoot back two glasses of whisky, one right after the other. I'm pouring a third when I hear a noise from the hall. Harry's supposed to be at the Burrow…so who the fuck is using our toilet?

The kitchen door begins to swing open; I train my wand on the entrance, preparing to curse the intruder into oblivion.

"AAAHH!" a female voice shrieks.

"Fuck!" I quickly point my wand downward, the faint red sparks from my aborted spell dying before hitting the floor.

"Hermione?" I don't give her the chance to answer. I drop my wand on the counter and rush across the room – I have to make sure she's real. I grab her face in my hands and kiss her hard.

She's here, she's real…she tastes amazing.

I finally pull back to look at her, her big brown eyes are slightly glassy; she looks like she's been hit by a Confundus. Can't squash the pride I feel, knowing I did that to her.

"Ron," she says breathlessly. Her arms are around my waist, inside my cloak, and I can feel her fingertips digging into my lower back. It's heaven.

Regaining her composure, she says with a cheeky smile, "Not quite the wand I was expecting you to pull out once I saw you."

"I'll show you my wand all right." I rub my growing stiffy against her.

"Promises, promises," she teases. I love this playful side of Hermione. Hell, I love all sides of Hermione.

"Oi, shut it woman," I say with a laugh, moving my arms down to press her tight against me.

"What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be lying topless on a French beach somewhere?"

"Complaining?"

"Not at all," I tell her with a quick kiss to her nose.

"I told my parents I simply had to return early, there's too much to do in preparation for starting my new position with the Ministry this week."

"Oh." I try not to sound too disappointed. Here I thought she came back early to be with me.

"Of course," she continues, "I failed to mention that the 'novel' I had been reading the entire holiday was actually my transfigured case files." Her hands are rubbing over my back in the most delicious way. "So you see, I'm actually all yours until they return late Sunday."

"Really?" I sound like a kid who's been told there's extra pudding.

"Really."

I kiss her again, not quite as roughly, but nowhere near tender. She moans in approval, pulling my tongue into her mouth and sucking rhythmically. When her hands grab my arse, I decide to return the favour.

As I skim my hands down the side of her body I notice she's not fully dressed. Moving to kiss her neck, I sneak a peek and realise she's wearing one of my work shirts. It hangs to the middle of her thighs, and with the top few buttons open, she makes quite a sexy sight.

My rough hands rub under the hem of the shirt and grab a handful of – BARE FLESH?

_Merlin help me_.

"Where're your knickers?" I ask, kneading her naked arse.

"They seem to have a habit of getting lost, don't they?" She tilts her head back as I lick my way down to the opening of her top.

"Maybe you should give up wearing 'em," I mumble into her breast, pulling her hard nipple into my mouth, soaking the soft fabric.

She wraps her fingers in my hair, scratching my scalp lightly, the way I've jealously watched her to do Crookshanks hundreds of times. "I'll take that under advisement."

I start fumbling with her buttons – well, technically my buttons I guess – don't care really, I just need this damn thing off.

Hermione bats my hands away – _Damn!_ "Enough about what I'm wearing," she says as she reaches to open my robes and push them off, "you're the one with too–"

She suddenly gasps, a shaky hand covering her mouth. "Ron?" she chokes out.

"What?" What the hell happened? I wrap my hands around her arms. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Blood," she whispers, pointing at me. I look down, and sure enough, the inside of my Auror robes are stained with blood.

My mind is bombarded with images: Anderson's screams as his arm is severed, blood spurting everywhere; cradling him in my arms as I hold off the attackers; wrapping my robes around him to keep him warm; reassuring him everything would be all right (yet knowing nothing of the sort); watching his wife collapse in shock and grief when she arrived at St. Mungo's.

I take a deep breath and push all that away. Grasping Hermione's trembling hand in both of mine, I try to assure her. "It's not mine, I swear, don't worry. I'm fine."

"Not yours?" Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears. I quickly shrug the robes all the way off and toss them aside. I take her face in my hands – she looks so scared – and I will her to relax.

"I'm fine," I whisper.

"What happened Ron? Whose blood is it, if it isn't yours?"

I can't keep eye contact with her; if I do I know I'll break down. I can't tell her, can't expose her to all the horror.

"It was a raid, it…uh, didn't go as planned," I murmur. Turning away, I find the half-poured glass of Firewhisky from earlier and down it in one. "Don't worry about it," I say, knowing damn well she's not going to let it go.

"Don't worry!" she screeches. I chance a glimpse over my shoulder – she's got her hands on her hips, causing her shirt to ride up her bare legs and gap in the front, offering me a peek of her brilliant tits. _Damn, and things were progressing so nicely…_

"Don't you _dare_ tell me not to worry, Ron Weasley!"

"I don't wanna fucking talk about it, Hermione," I grumble.

"Well, that's too _fucking_ bad!"

_Uh-oh. I usually only hear that word when we're both naked – and in decidedly better moods._

I hunch over the counter, trying to stay calm. I can feel her staring daggers into my back. She goes so far as to huff and stomp her foot. It's just killing her that I'm not giving her the fight she's looking for.

"Look at me, Ron," she commands, doing a passable imitation of McGonagall.

If I turn around it'll just get worse. I know she'll make me either give in and talk about it or get in a row. I really just want to forget.

"Ron?" Her voice is softer – and much closer. I can't help but flinch in pain when she touches my shoulder and squeezes.

She jumps back as if burned. "I knew it! I _knew_ you were hurt!"

_Fuck_.

I turn to face her. "Look Hermione, it's not that bad–"

"Did a Healer tell you that?"

"Uh, well…" I mumble, staring at the floor.

"You were examined by a Healer, weren't you?"

"The thing is–"

"Ron! You can't get injured on the job and not get it checked out, or not report it! There are protocols to follow–"

"I know about the protoc–"

"Paperwork needs to be filed," she continues, ignoring me. "Personnel has to be informed…"

"I know!" I shout, effectively shutting her up."I fucking know how to do my job, Hermione! Believe it or not, I've managed quite well for myself over the past year."

I instantly regret yelling at her; I know she's only trying to help. To be honest though, it stings a bit that she thinks I don't know what I'm doing.

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry." I take a step closer to her, trying not to let it upset me when she crosses her arms and refuses to meet my eye. "I filed my report with my squad leader before leaving St. Mungo's."

At the mention of the hospital's name, she looks up at me. I take a chance and reach a hand out to rub her arm lightly. Thank God she doesn't pull away again.

"There were others far worse off, believe me."

She stares at me a moment, her eyes growing wet with tears. _Shit_. I hate making her cry.

"Take off your shirt," she finally says.

"What?" I must have misheard. Surely she didn't say–

"Take. Off. Your. Shirt," she repeats. She rolls her eyes when I hesitate. "I want to check your shoulder."

I nod silently, knowing better than to argue further. I wince involuntarily when I roll my shoulder to slip my arm from the sleeve. I can hear Hermione suck in her breath through her teeth as she stretches up to take a closer look.

"Sit," she says crisply, pointing to a kitchen chair.

"Where's your dittany?" she asks once I'm seated. Funny how two years ago I wouldn't have even known what she was talking about, now I have a ready supply.

"Cupboard over the sink." It's also where Harry and I keep the Firewhisky – heal us up both inside and out I guess.

I smile and shake my head at the sight of Hermione standing on her toes searching for the vial of healing liquid, muttering under her breath about the disorganised mess of our cupboards.

My shirt she's wearing is riding up as she stretches, offering me a spectacular view of her slender legs. Has it really only been two weeks since I felt them wrapped around me? Feels a hell of a lot longer.

Hermione picks my wand up off the counter and brings it and the Essence of Dittany over to the table where I'm seated.

"Hold still." My shoulder tingles as she magically cleans the wound. "The gash isn't too deep. What was the spell?"

"No spell, a branch fell on me." I try desperately to prevent my mind from travelling back to the field, spells firing all around as I sat huddled under that tree with Anderson, him barely clinging to life.

"Hmm," she grunts, obviously annoyed when I don't elaborate. After her soft voice murmurs a healing spell I know is meant for bruising, she sets down my wand and reaches for the dittany.

When she leans over the table, her shirt gapes open, revealing her lush round tits with their pretty pink nipples, looking so delicious against her pale skin.

"Glad to see you didn't get a sunburn," I say, staring longingly at her chest. "Guess you didn't make it to the topless beach after all." I want to lighten the mood.

"What makes you think I don't know a sunscreen charm?" she responds, trying to sound stern – but I know she's teasing.

Her cool hand feels like heaven as it rubs the dittany over the wound on my back, bringing me immediate relief. Her free hand rests on my uninjured right shoulder, fingers turning white as she squeezes the muscles there. I don't think she realises she's doing it. I reach across my body and cover her small hand with my own. She instantly relaxes.

Hermione puts the little glass bottle back on the table, leaning against my back to do so. She rests there, her arms wrapped around me, her chin on my shoulder.

"Why won't you talk about it?" she asks quietly.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I just can't – it's…it's too much."

"Please let me in." Her hands press against my chest, pulling me tighter against her.

I lift one up to my mouth and kiss the palm before placing it back over my heart.

"You _are_ in, Hermione…you are."

I know it sounds soppy – but it's true.

"I mean in here," she says, kissing my temple.

"Why would you wanna be in there? Nothing but Quidditch stats and thoughts of you naked."

"_Ron_," she practically whinges, "I just want to help you, make you feel better."

"If you really want to help…" I say, tugging on her arm and pulling her around to sit in my lap, "help me forget."

"You really need to talk–"

"Shhh," I whisper, resting my hand on the side of her neck and rubbing her cheek with my thumb. "I need _you_," I tell her, hoping I don't sound too desperate.

She looks adorably conflicted…she wants to give in, but she's too stubborn to let the argument go. I give her a soft kiss on her crinkled brow, hoping to persuade her.

"You," I repeat, covering her face with more kisses. By the time I reach her lips, I can feel her resistance has disappeared.

As we kiss, I move my hand from her jaw, slowly down over her collarbone – _God, I love it when she shivers like that_ – finally reaching inside her open shirt.

I start to knead her breast and, when she moans her approval into my mouth, I can feel it in my cock.

I start squeezing a little rougher, pulling at her stiff nipple – causing her to wriggle in my lap, rubbing her bare arse against the hard-on straining my trousers.

_Why the hell am I even still wearing these?_

Her hands tangle in my hair, urging my kisses lower. I latch onto her breast and suck hard, knowing that's how she likes it. Somehow I manage to get the last few buttons open and push the damned shirt off her shoulders, leaving me with a lapful of naked Hermione.

The feel of her hands tugging on my belt spur me into action. _It's been too damn long._

"Ron!" she squeaks when I stand up with her in my arms. "What are you doing?"

I place her on the kitchen table, standing between her legs. "If you can't tell yet, I'm doing it wrong."

With my arms wrapped around her, I gently guide Hermione back until she's lying on the table. I open my trousers and let them, and my pants, fall to the ground.

Looking at her spread out before me naked, I wonder how the fuck did I get so lucky; I know I better enjoy this while it lasts 'cause all too soon the real world's gonna interfere again. So, I keep my eyes fixed on Hermione's; knowing if I close them I might see the tortured look on Anderson's wife's face again, and, with a shift of my hip, I let myself get lost in Hermione.

* * *

Art illustrating this chapter can be found: wordsmithsonian [dot] deviantart [dot] com/#/d3456l7 (remove spaces and replace [dot] with .) Link also on my profile page.

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	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Hermione and I have settled into a routine since she started working at the Ministry – no surprise there, few things turn Hermione on more than a well-planned timetable.

Believe it or not, I don't mind schedules much anymore. After living on the run for a year – hell, after living life as Harry's best mate for over eight years – it's kind of nice to have some predictability. For example, I like knowing the Ministry canteen has cottage pie on Mondays and chocolate gateau on Thursdays.

It's comforting to know we'll all meet for tea at the Burrow on Sunday, and that my squad will gather for drinks at my Squad Leader's local pub every Friday. Cooper likes us to get together off duty and away from the Ministry, says it builds 'team unity'. I think he just likes the company. Rumour has it, his wife's a Muggleborn who left for Canada once Umbitch started her Inquisition; apparently Mrs. Cooper hasn't decided to return to England yet.

Tonight's Muggle Pub Night, so I invited Hermione to join me, just like I do every Friday – and just like every other week, she declined. Guess that's part of our routine now too.

Harry was all mopey and complaining because _his_ girlfriend was hidden away in Wales at a secret training facility while I was going to get to see my girl everyday. I promptly reminded him exactly how Hermione acts when she buries herself in something.

Unfortunately, I was right.

She might as well be in Wales for as much as I get to see her.

Sure, the first few days she met Harry and me for lunch – by the end of the week she was 'just too busy.'

As predicted, the busier she got, the less often she'd meet us.

That's not to say we don't get together after work a couple times a week, or on the weekends. Every now and then I even manage to convince her to sneak into a supply cupboard with me, but those moments are few and far between.

But she hasn't spent another full night at my flat, not since her parents returned from their holiday in France.

What a freaking' amazing weekend that was though. After a thorough ravishing on the kitchen table, I convinced Hermione to give the enlarged tub a go – and it was fan-bloody-tastic! Getting clean has never been so dirty.

The inevitable nightmare came that night – visions of Anderson, his blood and his crying wife, images that swirled into _me_ covered in blood and Hermione screaming with fear. Rather than waking to the usual empty bed, I startled awake and Hermione was lying right there next to me, her arms wrapped tight around me. I thought for certain she'd try to get me to bloody talk about it. Instead, she just kissed all over my body, telling me how much she loved me, how grateful she was that I was all right, until finally I was deep inside her again, where nothing existed but me and her.

Wish we could have spent the whole two days doing nothing but shagging. Unfortunately I had to work my shift at the Wheezes all day Saturday. It was bloody amazing to come home and find her curled up on my bed reading. Would have been better if she'd been naked, but a bloke can't have everything.

On Sunday we stopped by her parents' place so she could change for Ginny's party. I couldn't convince her to have a go up in her room (not for lack of trying), though I did get a seriously mind addling snog – complete with groping. Thank Merlin she's not as uptight about doing it at _my_ parents' place, otherwise I'd still be a virgin.

Course that Monday Hermione started work at the Ministry – and it all went to Hell. Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled she's working with Magical Creatures. I'm just not chuffed about how _hard_ she's working.

Wonder what she'd do if I marched in that tiny office hers, shielded the door and took her right there over her desk...

"Weasley!"

I'm ripped from my very wicked thoughts of defiling Hermione's ordered workspace by one of my teammates joining me, drink in hand.

"Brought you a pint."

"Cheers, Harvey!" Harvey's always good value, and I'm glad of the company.

"So, how are you holding up?" Harvey asks.

"Holding up? What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Weasley. I was there that night – with Anderson. You can't go through something like that and not have it affect you."

"Yeah, well…"

"Have the nightmares stopped?"

I'm tempted to lie and say there were no nightmares, but Harvey would see right through me. Finally I confess: "Mostly."

"It takes time."

I take a long pull of my ale, wishing we could change the subject to Quidditch or something. Hell, I'd even settle for a discussion of cauldron bottom thickness at this point.

"Take comfort in knowing you did the right thing. It may not seem like it, but you really did make a difference."

I manage a quick nod in response. Sensing my discomfort, Harvey squeezes my forearm and says, "If you ever want to talk…"

"Thanks."

Harvey sits back and surveys the barroom, laughing suddenly. "Looks like Quinn's making his move – not that it appears to be working."

Archie Quinn's in our squad, he was in the same Auror class as Harvey, just a few years ahead of me. His libido is almost as big as his ego.

Honestly I think he's a total arse. I admit, I take a perverse pleasure in watching him attempt to work his own 'special magic' with the ladies.

I look over my shoulder to see what unsuspecting woman Quinn's set his sights on tonight.

_Fuck no! What the devil is she–_

I jump to my feet, almost knocking over my chair in the process, and shout: "Hermione!" Rushing across the crowded pub, I reach her just as she gets to the door.

"Hermione?" I wrap a hand around her arm and turn her around to face me. "Why were you leaving? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles – not looking at all fine to me.

"What the fuck did that arse say to you? I swear to God, Hermione, I'll beat Quinn's ruddy ugly face until his own mother won't recognise him–"

"No!" She clutches at me, trying to prevent me from bashing the bloody tosser. "It wasn't him…"

"Then what's the problem?" She shakes her head, trying to convince me it's nothing, but she's biting her lip and avoiding my eyes, so it's obvious to me she has _something_ on her mind.

I decide to try a different tactic. Leading her away from the door and over to a quiet spot by the wall, I rub my hands up and down her crossed arms. "I didn't think you'd be able to make it, what changed your mind?"

"My parents were out for the evening, the house was just so quiet… I was lonely." She stares into my eyes and whispers, "I missed you."

"I'm glad you're here," I tell her, kissing her forehead. She grants me a small smile. "Come meet the rest of the squad, I promise they aren't all wankers like Quinn."

She stiffens again. "No thank you. I think I'll be heading home."

"Home? Oh come on, Hermione… you just got here."

"It doesn't seem as though you've been missing my company."

What the fuck has her knickers so twisted?

"What's the problem? Its just drinks with the lads, same as every week."

"Lads?" She cries, waving a hand at the bar.

I look over and see Cooper having a laugh with Murtagh, Quinn's spotted some new prey, while Harvey's ordering another round… Wait, Harvey… could that be it?

"Hermione, is this about Harvey?"

"Harvey?"

"Yeah, well, Lindsay… Lindsay Harvey." I nod toward the blond at the bar, who spots me and flashes a dimpled smile.

"Is that her name?" she says tetchily. _Brrrrr is it cold in here?_ I can't help but laugh.

"Glad to know you find my discomfort so amusing Ron. Maybe I should just leave you to _Harvey_, then." She starts heading for the door in a huff. I yank her back before she can get too far.

I cannot seriously believe Hermione is jealous, especially of Lindsay. I mean, yeah, I guess I can see it from Hermione's perspective. Lindsay's pretty tall for a girl, long legs, fit body, nice big… well, anyway, none of that matters.

"Come on love, she's no threat; if anyone should be worried, it's me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say, you're more her type than I am."

Her eyes suddenly widen in realisation – then quickly narrow again in doubt. "How do you know?"

"Well, Quinn's been trying to pull her for years–"

"That only proves she has taste, not that she's a lesbian."

"True," I concede. "There's also the fact that she told us."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she's totally open about it."

"Oh." She still doesn't seem all that convinced that Lindsay's harmless.

"Hermione," I take her face in my hands, "Even if she _were_ interested, there's only you for me. You _have_ to know that."

"I know." Her arms slip around my waist as I lean in to kiss her. Just as I'm about to suggest we head back to my place, I feel a hard slap on my back.

"Weasley, you dog!"

_Buggering hell_. "What do you want Quinn?" He seems a little put off by my intimidating stare; all that practising must be working.

The spell of my 'What the fuck is wrong with you, you bloody wanker' glare wears off pretty quickly: Quinn's back to being a full-blown arse.

"Thought you said you had a girlfriend, yet here you are pulling this fine bird." I do _not_ like the way he's ogling Hermione, the fucking tosser.

"This _is_ my girlfriend, Quinn." I pull Hermione tight against me. "Hermione, this is Archie Quinn."

"We've already met," Hermione says in her best McGonagall voice.

"Ah, but I didn't get your name before."

"Hermione Granger," she says, her tone cold enough to freeze the balls off a Centaur.

"_THE_ Hermione Granger," he says with exaggerated reverence. "We were beginning to think you were the figment of our boy's imagination…"

_Boy! Oi, watch it fucktard!_

"… A tale he spun to hide his, uh, proclivities."

_Did he just call me a poof?_

"I assure you, I am quite real," Hermione says, burrowing closer into my arms.

"So I see…"

I swear if this toe-rag doesn't stop leering at my girl in the next 15 seconds, I'm going to shove his bloated head up his own arse. I feel Hermione squeeze my side, obviously reading my mind and trying to prevent any bloodshed.

"Anyway," Quinn says, finally tearing his eyes off Hermione, "I came over because it's your turn to buy a round, Weasley."

"Oh, uh… I think we were about to leave." _And go back to my flat and shag each other senseless_.

"You know the rules, Weasley. No one leaves without buying a round."

"Hermione?" I ask hesitantly, afraid she'll use this as an excuse to leave.

She surprises me with a brilliant smile, saying lightly, "It wouldn't do to have you shirking your responsibility, Ron."

"We'll be along in a minute, Quinn." I send him off and turn back to Hermione. "Thanks love, we don't have to stay long."

"No worries, you know how important I think rules are."

"Even Mum's rule about no closed doors?" I tease.

"Well, only the rules that make sense… Honestly, as if an open door would stop you when you're randy."

"Me? You were the one who–"

"That's neither here nor there," she cuts me off, adding a dismissive wave for emphasis. "I believe they're waiting for you," she says, heading toward the bar.

If I'm not mistaken, her walk's got a bit more arse wiggle than usual, the little minx.

I make my way to the bar and pay for everyone's drinks – I have to say, it's nice to have some money in my pocket for a change. I feel Hermione watching me closely as I handle the Muggle bills.

Once we're all seated back at the table, conversation jumps from topic to topic, with Quinn making crude comments and Murtagh telling us about the 'glory days' of being an Auror. To be honest, I'm feeling a mite bit uncomfortable sitting here between Hermione and Lindsay. Hermione's sipping her wine and watching Harvey, like she's trying to figure her out – and not particularly liking what she sees. I'm having flashbacks to the glares Hermione used to give Lavender back in Sixth Year. It's not pleasant.

I'm thinking of grabbing Hermione and getting the hell out of here when Cooper suddenly draws everyone's attention.

"Make sure you all get your affairs in order this weekend. The briefing is 6am Monday, with the Portkey set for 7:30."

"Portkey?" Hermione asks.

Shit! I haven't had the chance to tell her about the training exercise. Seems our squad is supposed to meet up with some foreign Aurors, some sort of International Magical Cooperation bullshit. Kingsley didn't tell us about it until earlier today and it had completely slipped my mind.

"Off to Paris for two weeks. Didn't Lover Boy here tell you?"

_Fuck you, Quinn_.

"P-Paris?" she stammers.

"Christ, I'm sorry Hermione, we only just found out about it… I didn't get the chance to tell you–"

"But why? And for two weeks?"

"Training," Lindsay pipes in. "Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Law Enforcement are co-sponsoring a symposium with foreign governments to discuss training and investigation techniques."

"Sounds fascinating," Hermione says longingly. "You could really learn a lot, Ron. Be sure to pay attention."

Lindsay greets that suggestion with a giggle.

"Pardon me?" Hermione narrows her eyes at her perceived nemesis.

"Hard not to pay attention, when he's one of the lecturers," Lindsay says, sounding a touch boastful. "The whole reason our squad is going is because Kingsley's asked Ron to speak on tracking and concealment spells."

Wait for it…

"Wow, Ron!"

There it is, right on cue – the tone of surprise that I actually know what I'm doing.

"Yeah, I was shocked too," Quinn adds.

"That's not what I–" Hermione starts. Honestly, I don't care to hear anymore. I push away from the table with a mumble about getting another drink.

While I'm waiting for the barkeep, Lindsay walks up and signals for her own drink. Once she has hers in hand, she looks at me, shaking her head, and says, "Does she even know you?" before walking away.

I don't have the chance to think about Lindsay's words before Hermione appears beside me.

"Ron, I didn't mean–"

"Save it." I _really_ don't want to hear it right now.

"But–"

"Look Hermione, it's been a long day. I'm exhausted. Let's just go home, we can talk about the Paris thing all you want. You are coming back to mine, yeah?"

"If you want me to."

I pull her to my side and give her a quick kiss on the temple. "I _always_ want you to."

"So, where do we go to Appar– er, head home?"

"I usually just use the loo."

"The loo?" she asks, laughing.

"Yeah, why not? There's an alley round back, if you'd rather."

"No, no. Toilet's fine – lead the way."

I leave a few bills on the bar (probably too many, but too tired to care) and take Hermione's hand, leading her down the back hall.

"See you at home," she says with a smile before entering the women's toilet.

I walk into the men's, which is thankfully empty, turn on the spot and reappear inside the front door of my flat.

"Hermione?" I call out, heading into the lounge.

"In the kitchen, be right there!"

I flop onto the sofa and stretch my legs out on the tea table. Hermione appears with two steaming mugs.

"Thought I was the one who usually thinks of the kitchen when Apparating."

"Mmmm," Hermione hums, taking a sip of her tea as she curls up on the sofa beside me. "Figured you might want something a little less alcoholic before bed, since you have to be at the shop early tomorrow."

"Good thinking. Thanks"

We sit quietly for a few minutes, neither of us sure what to say.

"So… Paris." Hermione breaks the silence.

"Yeah."

"It's lovely there."

"Uh-huh."

"You should ask Fleur about Wizarding sights, or where to eat."

"Yeah, okay. I will." This forced polite conversation is killing me.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione decides to tackle what's really on her mind.

"Ron, I didn't mean to–"

"It's all right, Hermione. I was shocked too."

"I wasn't shocked!" she yells defensively.

"Okay, whatever." I take a sip of my tea in order to occupy my mouth so I don't say anything I might regret.

"Why do always you do that?" She slams her mug on the side table and turns on me.

"Do what?" I don't think my strategy of staying quiet is going to work.

"Always assume I'm thinking the worst about you?"

"Gee, Hermione, I can't imagine what you've ever done that would give me that impression," I spit back sarcastically, slamming my mug down too.

"Ron!"

"Looking over my shoulder like I'm a five year old who can't make proper change, acting like I can't Apparate across the room without splinching someone…"

"I never–"

"… Lecturing me on how to do my job, gasping in utter _shock_ in front of my co-workers when you learn I've been singled out…"

"For the last time… I. Was. Not. Shocked!"

"Fine, then what do you call it?"

"Amazed, awed – _proud_!

I stammer, trying to come up with something to say, some sort of coherent response, finally just looking away in defeat.

"The locket was wrong, Ron," she whispers, climbing down the sofa and onto my lap. She clasps my face in her hands. I slip my eyes closed so I can't see the look of pity on her face.

"You are _everything_ to me, Ron." She kisses my brow, my nose, the corner of mouth, all the time whispering the same thing over and over: "Everything."

"Hermione," I sigh into her mouth when her lips cover mine. Blimey, she tastes amazing. My hands move to clutch her arse, pulling her tighter against me as she straddles me. I move to kiss her neck, loving the shiver she can't hide.

"I'm sorry," I hear her breath in my ear. I pull back and meet her eyes.

"You don't have to–"

"You've changed. Ron. I don't know how to be what you need now."

"What are you on about? You are _exactly_ what I need."

She sits back further on my knees, twining her fingers together nervously. "When we were in school, I _knew_ you needed me, even if it was just for my notes or help with your homework… I had a role to fill, and I thrived on it." She looks at me through her lashes, blushing slightly. "Of course, eventually, there were other things I wanted you to need – _want_ – from me too."

"I did… I do…" I untangle her hands and take them in my own, squeezing them tightly.

"But now… you don't need me anymore."

"That's a load of dung!" I shout, startling her.

"It…it's true. You're doing an amazing job – at _both_ your positions! You work harder than you ever have. You support George, you look after Harry, and you have everything under control–"

"And it's all because of you," I explain.

"How? I wasn't even here!" She wipes at the tears starting to fall down her beautiful face.

"All that I've done this past year – hell, all that I've done since the Deluminator brought me back to you – has been because of you. I want to be worthy of you, Hermione."

"You are! You always have been!"

"But I needed to _believe_ it. Every day I work hard to be a man you can be proud of. You give me focus and guidance, something to strive towards. Saying I don't need you is like … is like saying I don't need air – or chocolate!"

She laughs softly at my pathetic attempt at humour. Taking her face in my hands, I press my forehead to hers. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too."

I pull her full lower lip between mine, sucking gently, capturing her moan of pleasure in my mouth. I rub my tongue lightly over the inside of her lip before slipping it inside her mouth. I try to be tender, slow – but, as usual, our passion quickly escalates.

My hands find their way back to her arse (this time, under her skirt), holding on tightly as she grinds herself against my growing erection.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," I groan into her neck. "It's been so long… want you so bad…"

"We just shagged on Tuesday," she replies breathlessly as I help myself to a handful of her perfect tits.

"Exactly… a fucking _eternity_, without fucking."

She just moans and starts rocking faster on my cock. I feel I'm about to shoot my load off in my jeans, when a sudden noise freezes us.

I look over the back of the sofa to see a pyjama clad Harry stumbling past, on his way to the kitchen. "Don't mind me. Not wearing my glasses – can't see a thing." I can feel the heat of Hermione's blush as she buries her face in my neck.

"Maybe we should move this to my room?" I whisper.

"I…I think I should just head home."

"What? No!" I keep a firm grip on her waist, keeping her in place.

"Shh," she hisses.

"No," I repeat in a whisper. "You can't leave _now_." I thrust my hips up to remind her what we were doing.

"It's late, my parents will be expecting me home."

"Come on, love. Won't take long, promise."

"Honestly Ron, promising a short shag is _not_ a strong selling point."

"I'll make it worth your while," I murmur into the space between her breasts, as I hold her close to me.

She moves her head to the side so I can move my lips over her throat. "You always do. How about I make it worth your while – tomorrow?"

"Herm-_ione_," I whinge. She wriggles out of my grasp and sets about righting her clothes. "I'm leaving on Saturday – for two bloody weeks."

"I'll be here when you get back from the shop, I promise."

"And you'll stay the night?" I attempt to negotiate, standing to pull her into my arms.

"We'll see… "

"Last summer you'd Apparate over to my room at the Burrow and spend the night," I remind, rubbing my hands slowly over her back.

"That was before my parents, well my father really, strictly forbade it."

"I'm forbidden, am I?"

"No, not you, just staying out all night. Besides, we'll have all day Sunday…"

"You'll help me pack?" I ask hopefully.

"Of course." Her arms wrap tightly around my middle and she buries her face in my chest.

"Needing some air there, Hermione," I joke.

"Sorry," she says, easing her grip but not letting go. "I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too."

"Guess I better go," she says, stepping back reluctantly.

"If you must." I offer her my most pathetic pout.

"Till tomorrow." She takes out her wand. "I love you, so much," she says as she Disapparates.

I sink back into the sofa just as Harry passes back through the room.

"Done already? There are spells for that you know." He shuts his bedroom door seconds before a sofa cushion collides with it.

* * *

**Here's another installment... I hope you enjoy and I would REALLY like to hear what you think! Please review! ~Mugglemama**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Paris was… nice.

I know I'm supposed to say it was brilliant and lovely and _magical_.

And I'm sure it would be – if Hermione were there with me.

The French were a bit too snooty, the food a bit too rich (I swear, I'd sell George's other ear for a meat pie right about now), and Hermione was too far away.

Cooper finally got tired of all my moping and sent me home early. Harvey came back on the same Portkey, while Quinn and Murtagh decided to stay through the weekend. Cooper stayed to keep an eye on them.

I've Apparated to the dark corner of a park down the street from the Grangers' house. I didn't have time to send word I was coming home early and I think Hermione's parents would be more than a little freaked out if I suddenly appeared in their lounge. Though, I suppose, I could have just Apparated directly into Hermione's bedroom.

I _cannot_ start thinking thoughts like that. I'm almost at their door and it would not be good form to greet Mrs. Granger at her front door with a throbbing cock-stand. I don't even want to imagine what would happen if Hermione's dad answered the door.

Now I've worked myself into a nervous wreck. I wipe my sweaty hands on my trousers as I wait for someone to answer my knock.

The door suddenly swings open and there stands Hermione. She looks bloody gorgeous. I mean, she's always does, but she's wearing a black dress I don't recall ever seeing, and it looks amazing on her.

I don't even get to say 'hello' before Hermione grabs me by the arm and yanks me inside. She pushes me back against the door that closes with a 'slam' behind us. Her mouth is instantly on mine, as she literally starts climbing my body. I spin her around, so that she's pressed up against the sidewall. Hermione wraps her lean legs around my waist, and it barely registers in my brain that we're dry humping in her parents' front hall.

"Hermione?"

Shit! That's her mother calling! I reluctantly lower Hermione to the ground before Mrs. Granger finds us conceiving her first grandchild up against a wall.

"Is that Jeremy?"

_Who the fuck is Jeremy?_

"No Mum. It's Ron," Hermione calls back, her hands still twisted in my hair, holding me in place so our foreheads are touching.

"Hi," Hermione whispers, her smile bright and contagious. "Welcome home."

"With a greeting like that, reckon I'll have to go away more often."

"Don't you dare," she scowls at me, not too convincingly I might add, since she's still grinning like a loon.

Hermione's dad suddenly pops his head out of his study. "I heard the door, is it Jeremy?"

_Seriously. Who is Jeremy?_

"No, dear. It's Ron," Mrs. Granger says, walking up the hall on her way in from the kitchen.

"Ron? I thought he wasn't coming back until Monday." _Try not to sound too disappointed there, Mr. Granger._

I take a step back from Hermione, figuring a little distance is a good thing right now. I open my mouth to greet her parents but get interrupted by a loud knock at the front door.

"That must be Jeremy," I say. Mrs. Granger has the grace to laugh nervously, while Mr. Granger just continues his attempts at castration-by-glaring before he steps up to open the door.

I look down at Hermione and notice she's blushing. Not quite certain if it's because of the mysterious bloke at the door, or my surprise appearance. She takes my hand and leads me into their lounge.

"So… who's Jeremy?" I try to keep my tone teasing – it's not easy.

She pulls a face and replies, "A git," making me laugh.

There's no time to seek clarification. Mr. Granger enters the room, with Mrs. Granger and the infamous Jeremy in tow. He's barely taller than Hermione, with slicked back hair, dark rimmed glasses and a pinstriped suit. So, basically, he looks like a toffee-nosed dickweed.

"Hi there, Hermione. May I say, you are looking ravishing this evening?"

_No, you may NOT, bloody tosser._

"Thank you, Jeremy. I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Ron Weasley." Hermione wraps her arm around my waist and gives me a one-armed cuddle, sending a clear message to both the wanker and me. "Ron, Jeremy Pendergast."

"Ronald," the poofter says, looking down his nose at me – a difficult feat since he's a full head shorter.

"Jerry." I grab his little-girl hand and give it a firm shake.

_Take that, arsehole._

"Ron just got back from Paris," Hermione offers, trying to ease some of the tension.

"Ah, France…" Jeremy sighs. "We had such a lovely time there together, didn't we Hermione?"

"You did?" I ask Hermione, willing myself not to read too much into the git's comment. I must remain calm…

Hermione tuts and says, "I suppose it was nice." Turning to me, she explains: "Jeremy's parents own the house we stayed at right after I finished school. You remember," she prompts, "the holiday I came home early from."

I definitely remember her coming home early – 'specially remember her coming on my kitchen table.

Mr. Granger approaches, looking at his watch, "Well, our reservations are at 7:30–"

"Ron, you'll join us, won't you?" Hermione asks excitedly.

"Um," I look to Mr. Granger for some guidance. I'd rather take Hermione back to my place and shag her 'til we pass out – then wake up and do it all over again.

"Yes, please," Mrs. Granger insists before her husband can tell me what for. I _swear_ the man used to like me. I have no idea what happened, but the last few months he's been a pain in my arse.

"I don't know if I'm dressed properly," I say, taking in everyone's appearance.

"No problem!" Hermione grabs my hand and tugs me toward the stairs. "You can borrow something of Dad's."

Don't need eyes in the back of my head to imagine the look of disbelief that suggestion causes.

"Hermione," I hiss once we reach the landing, "I don't have a change of clothes, I sent my stuff back to the flat."

"It's all right." Hermione opens the door to her bedroom and pulls me inside. "I'll just Transfigure your shirt and jeans."

"Do I have to take them off for you to work your magic, Miss Granger?" I slide my hands slowly down her sides and around to grasp her bum. Damn it feels good to have her in my arms again.

r32;r32;"Not a bad idea…" She tilts her head up, her lips eagerly meeting mine.

Her soft hands make their way up under my shirt. I can't help the groan that escapes when she trails her nails over my bare back. I swallow her laughter at my reaction, feeling my cock harden when she gasps into my mouth when I hook her leg up against my hip and slip a hand up her bare thigh.

"Hermione!" Mr. Granger's loud voice breaks the moment. "Can you please come down here? I need to speak with you."

"Just a moment!" she shouts back, obviously frustrated by the interruption.

I reluctantly free her from my embrace. She pulls her wand from a hidden pocket of her dress and waives it over my shoddy clothes, leaving me dressed in black trousers and a crisply pressed blue shirt. "Perfect," she says with a nod of self-satisfaction as she puts her wand away.

"Just wait up here for a few minutes, give the illusion you actually changed clothes. Besides," her hand slips down and squeezes my still-hard cock, "You'll need a moment to deal with this."

I wrap a hand around her wrist, holding her in place and thrusting into her grasp. "I'd rather you deal with it."

"Hermione!" Her dad yells, sounding cheesed off now.

"Coming!" Hermione huffs.

"If only," I mumble.

"Oh, don't pout, you'll get your chance." She gives my cock another quick squeeze and darts out of the room.

I take a few minutes to look around, taking in Hermione's Muggle life. I laugh at a picture of Hermione, around age seven, smiling broadly at the camera despite the absence of her two front teeth. I scare myself when my mind momentarily replaces Hermione's wild brown hair with an unruly ginger mop, adding a generous smattering of freckles to the beaming face.

_What the hell am I doing thinking about what our kids would look like? For fuck's sake, we aren't even twenty yet!_

_But it's what I want_, I admit to myself. Maybe not right now, but someday.

My sudden flash of maturity has wilted the remains of my erection, and I deem it safe to venture back downstairs.

I'm about three steps from the bottom when I hear the familiar sounds of Hermione shouting. It's been a fair while since we've had a blazing row, but I'd recognise the din of Hermione in full battle mode any day.

I see Jeremy standing in the hall, eavesdropping on the happenings in Mr. Granger's study no doubt.

He nods towards the closed door, "She's a feisty one, our Hermione, eh?"

_Our Hermione_? Uh –– NO!

Mrs. Granger's frantic entrance into the hall pulls me from my contemplation of where I can hide Jeremy the Dickweed's mutilated corpse.

"Perhaps you boys would like to have a drink–" she offers, trying to steer us away from the epicentre of the father/daughter battle.

"–You are being ridiculous, Ron has never–" My ears perk up when they catch Hermione shouting my name, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"Ron!" her father bellows. I only hear snippets of what Mr. Granger has to say, the blood pounding in my ears making it difficult to understand.

"You're entirely too serious," he shouts. "Too young to know… need to see what else is out there…"

"Jeremy, perhaps we should reschedule?" Mrs. Granger takes the prat's arm and leads him toward the door.

"Um, Mrs. Granger, maybe I should go too…" This is entirely too awkward.

Hermione's shouted response echoes in the hall: "Oh please! It's not as if we're getting married–"

"Yup!" I yell, intentionally drowning out the noise of Hermione's confession. "Definitely going!" I practically sprint down the hall. "Tell Hermione I'll Floo– er, talk to her later."

"Ron, wait!" Mrs. Granger pleads.

I'm halfway out the open door. Turning back to answer her, I note the muffled sounds of Hermione and her father still arguing. Catching a glimpse of Jeremy's smirking face, I feel sick to my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger… I just can't."

I race down the walk in front of their house, heading for the park so I can Apparate away to… who-the-fuck knows where.

If I head home, Harry will want to know what's wrong… Can't go to Ginny's (even if I could, she'd find a way to make this all my fault)… George'll take the mickey out of me just for _thinking_ the word marriage…

What I really need is a drink! The image of the perfect place comes to mind and I deliberately follow it.

It feels odd to be here at the pub, even though it's a Friday night. Couldn't face the thought of running into anyone I know by going to a Wizarding pub, so I'm having a one-man Muggle Pub Night.

"Where's everyone else?" the bartender asked me when I first arrived.

"Just me tonight," I told him.

I order another round; better take this third glass of whisky a little slower than I did the first two.

As he sets my drink in front of me, the bartender nods toward the door, "Looks like you're not alone anymore."

I turn and spot Lindsay Harvey walking in. Her face lights up when she sees me across the room, I give her a small wave.

"Fancy seeing you here," she says, taking the empty stool next to mine. "Figured you'd be off with your girl tonight, making up for lost time."

"Yeah, well… she had, uh… other plans."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Whuh? Um…" Not really sure how to answer that one.

Lindsay flags down the barman and orders herself a whisky. She stares over the top of her glass at me as she takes a long sip, looking like she's working out a puzzle.

"So…" she finally says.

"So," I reply.

"Wanna tell me about these 'other plans' she had?"

"Not particularly."

"Involve another guy?"

"Sort of…"

"She's cheating on you? What the hell's her prob–"

"No! God, no." I pull a face at the absurdity of the idea. "Nothing like that. Just… well, I guess I thought we were on the same page about things. Turns out we're not even reading the same book."

When the fuck did this happened? Me, Ron Weasley, spouting book analogies. What's next? Quoting 'Hogwarts: A History'?

"That sort of makes sense, Ron."

"It does?"

"Sure. You've spent the past year proving yourself in a very _challenging_ position." She leans in closer, her hand resting on my arm. "You've faced life and death," Lindsay says quietly. "Hermione spent that same year as a schoolgirl."

"That's not fair–"

"Maybe what you need is a woman."

Wait. _What?_

Lindsay stands up from her stool, puts her hands on my knees and steps between my spread legs. Her lips brush against my ear as she whispers, "I could be that woman, Ron."

I lean back as far as I can without falling off my seat. "But…but I thought you liked–"

"You'll find I like all sorts of things." She runs her hands up the outside of my thighs. I really wish she'd move further away. "I like _you_, for example."

Oh fuck! Somebody help me!

"The girls? … You date girls!"

"Sometimes. I just don't talk about the blokes I date. I find it easier to work in an all-male environment when they think I'm unavailable."

"I…I'm unavailable," I remind her.

She huffs and takes a tiny step back. "I'm not looking to get married, Weasley."

_Apparently neither is Hermione_.

"I'm attracted to you. You're tall, fit, have a ridiculously sexy arse–"

_Really_?

"–Don't even get me started on that hair of yours. I think we could have a lot of fun together, Ron. But," she continues. "If you're really hung up on this whole girlfriend thing… I suppose she could join us."

"J-join us?"

"Isn't that every man's fantasy, Ron? Two sets of hands running over your body," she steps closer again, her hands back on my legs, her voice hot in my ear. "Two mouths, two tongues on your cock, your bollocks."

My eyes slide closed, the images she's describing sharp in my mind.

"One of us riding your cock, the other on your face." _Fuck, yeah… Hermione's sweet fanny_.

"Hermione spread out, her legs open, her juices dripping." _Yes_! "Your cock pounding into me as I go down on her."

The vision of Hermione writhing under the attention of someone else, even an admittedly attractive and kinky woman like Lindsay, turns my stomach.

"No!" I say firmly, fixing my eyes hard on hers. "No one touches Hermione but me." I grab her hand that had been inching its way toward my cock, and pull it away roughly, "and nobody touches me but Hermione."

"He's right."

_Buggering hell_!

I jump off the stool, sending Lindsay tottering backward. "Hermione!"

"I suggest you keep your hands off my boyfriend from now on," Hermione snarls.

Thank God we're in a Muggle pub, or else who knows what Hermione would do.

Lindsay raises her hands defensively. "I don't want any trouble, I was only trying to–"

"I _know_ what you were trying. Don't do it again."

Lindsay meets Hermione's glare. Finally she looks at me. "We'll talk later, Ron."

"No we won't."

"What?" She actually sounds surprised.

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"But… but we're friends." Does she honestly believe I can go on chatting with her about Quidditch and other mundane shit after the stunt she just pulled? I'm going to have to fucking ask for a transfer now, there is no way I can ever work with her again.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm really sorry," she says, walking away.

I turn to Hermione, wondering what the hell is going to happen now. She's staring blankly off into the space Lindsay was just occupying, breathing deeply.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" Bloody fuck!

"J-just need some…some air," she stammers.

"Okay, love. I've got you. C'mon, let's get out of here." I throw some money on the bar and wrap my arm around Hermione, trying to shield her from the bodies in the crowd as we make our way to the door.

Once outside, I guide her around to the alley at the back of the pub so we can Apparate out of here.

"Hermione? Think you'll be all right to Apparate?"

She leans her back against the wall, hunched over with her hands resting forward on her knees.

"She…she…"

"Hermione?" I try again.

"She was touching you." The look on Hermione's face when she finally lifts her head near about breaks my heart. "She's not allowed to do that."

"I know, I told her that." I step closer and gather her into my arms.

"You're mine, Ron," she says firmly. "Mine."

I'm hers … but how long will she be mine?

It sure as hell seems this is what she wants. Yet, I can still hear her yelling at her father: _'Oh please! It's not as if we're getting married_.'

I have to know for certain.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she hums into my chest, the vibrations racing through me like Fiendfyre.

"Are you sure?" My throat feels so tight; I'm surprised words were able to come out.

Hermione pulls back sharply, her eyes wide and alert. "Sure about what?"

"This…" I wave my hand back and forth between our bodies, "…us."

"Aren't you?" She steps away completely, and I wish I'd kept my sodding trap shut.

"I'm not saying that–"

"Then what are you saying? You want out? Are you saying it's over?" she sobs.

"Hermione, it will never be over."

"I don't understand, Ron."

"I just…I just wanna make certain we want the same thing."

"I want you, Ron. I want us!"

"I need you to be sure–"

"I am! Why don't you believe me?"

"I heard what you told your dad tonight." I can see the wheels of her mind turning, as she replays the conversation in her head. "You told him we aren't going to get married-"

"Well, we're not…"

I knew it!

"…Not until you ask me, anyway," she finishes.

"What? But you told him…"

"I told my father: 'It's not as if we're getting married – next week,' and we aren't – as far as I know."

Fuck, I don't know what to think!

"Your dad's been so different since you got home from school. I don't know Hermione, maybe he has a point, maybe you need to see–"

"My father's being a jealous prat and an idiot. If you had stayed around a few minutes more you would have heard me tell him that."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"You," she says simply, as if it's obvious.

"Me?"

"He's threatened by you, feels you've taken over his role as my 'protector'."

"Why the change all of a sudden? He used to fine with us, with me."

"He caught us in bed together."

"Whuh? We've never shagged at your–"

"Easter."

We hadn't shagged at the Grangers' house on Easter (or any other time actually). I had spent the night, however. Hermione had sent me a Patronus in the middle of the night – it had been weak, but strong enough to wake me.

She'd had a dream – a nightmare – about Malfoy Manor and that fucking lunatic LeStrange. I Apparated over straight away, held her as she cried. Held her all night in fact. Her father must've seen…

"I told Dad, that loving you and needing you didn't diminish his importance in my life. I've been so torn up with guilt over the whole Australia thing," she wipes away at some tears that are threatening to fall, "I've just avoided any conflict with my parents whatsoever."

"Until tonight," I point out.

"Until tonight."

I step closer and wipe a stray tear that's fallen. "What happened tonight, to change that?"

"When I went downstairs, to talk to my father, he made it perfectly clear that he felt you were intruding on my date with Jeremy."

"Date? I thought he was just a family friend?"

"Trust me, he's barely that – I've never been able to tolerate the git for more than five minutes. It was Dad's idea," she takes one of my hands in both of hers and squeezes. "I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I had no intention of going on a date with Jeremy – or any other bloke he might force on me – because I have a perfectly brilliant boyfriend, whom I am madly in love with, thank you very much."

"I gather he didn't take it too well." I reach up to brush her hair back behind one ear, sliding my fingers against her soft cheek.

"That's an understatement," she laughs. "To expect me to choose to spend the evening with someone else, when you were right there… It was ridiculous. I couldn't take it anymore, and I guess I just exploded."

"It's not your fault, Hermione."

"It's probably a good thing in the end. We both had a lot on our minds, we really cleared the air." The beginning of a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Something positive did come out of tonight…"

"Yeah? What?"

"I told my parents I'm moving out."

"You did?" I can't even attempt to contain my excitement over this bit of news.

"I most certainly did." Her smile has grown into a full-bloomed grin.

"When will you move? Where will you live? Oh, I know! You can move in with us!"

"Slow down there, Ron," she says, laughing. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't know if sharing with you and Harry is such a good idea."

"Yeah, I reckon you'd like some privacy." I try not to sound too disappointed.

"I'd like to find my own place," she ducks her head shyly and blushes as she adds, "for now."

"For now," I repeat, feeling my own blush develop.

"It may take a few months to find the right place, but that should give my parents time to get used to the notion.

"I'm sorry if I caused any of this trouble with your folks, Hermione."

"None of that!" Grabbing my face, she pulls me down level with her. "You have nothing to be sorry for." Still clutching my cheeks, she presses her lips firmly against mine. I open my mouth to her insistent tongue, moaning loudly when she pulls at my bottom lip, sucking hard.

She releases me long enough to whisper huskily, "God, I love you." I manage to gasp, "Love you too," before we begin kissing again. Slipping her tongue inside my mouth, she teases and entices, pushing me to want more.

I love it when she gets like this. Hermione has always been a passionate person, but to have her release such sexual fervor, all directed at me – it's the fucking biggest turn on.

I'm not even sure how it's happened, but I'm turned around, my back pressed up against the scratchy brick wall. Hermione's quick fingers are working on the buckle of my worn leather belt while she makes open mouth kisses along my jaw. I know what's about to happen in this dark alley behind a busy pub; I know I should stop her and Apparate us away, back to my flat. I also know I don't want to break the spell we're under.

"Her…Hermione," I struggle. "We should go, go home."

"I've missed you so much Ron," Hermione moans, as she struggles with the buttons of my trousers. "Don't want to wait."

"Fuck." I exhale sharply when she pushes down my pants to expose my hard cock to the cool night air. It feels so freaking hot; I'm surprised there isn't steam rising off it.

Hermione has my dick in her expert hand, stroking me slow and steady, her thumb rubbing the pre-come pooling on the tip. She quirks an eyebrow at me, with a lop-sided smile.

I know what she's thinking, teasing me like this – and God I want her to do it. The thought of Hermione, down on her knees in this dank alley, sucking my cock is almost too much to handle. As much as I want to watch her soft lips wrapped around my cock as I fuck her mouth, the lure of taking her up against this wall is too great.

I put a hand on her wrist as she pumps my prick, easing it off slowly. Moving quickly before she can question me, I spin us around so that she's backed up against the wall. I take both her hands in one of mine and hold them above her head.

"You know, someone could walk by…" I tease, thrusting my throbbing cock into her hip, loving the feel of the silk of her dress against my hot flesh.

"Won't they be jealous," she replies, leaning forward to kiss my jaw.

I trace a finger along the edge of her dress, where it exposes the swell of her breasts. Dipping a finger between her round tits, I find it warm and slightly sweaty. I imagine what it would be like to slide my prick in that damp space.

I taste her skin, dragging my lips and tongue over her throat and cleavage. "I really like this dress," I tell her as I slip my tongue between her tits. "Is it new?"

"It…it's my mother's."

I laugh into her neck. "Could have done without that bit of information, love."

Hermione snakes her bare leg around one of mine, bringing our bodies closer. I grind against her with a little more force.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yes, please," she whimpers. I release her hands, which instantly fall to my shoulders, giving her leverage to push herself up as I lift her in the air.

Her legs go around my waist and I can feel the wetness of her knickers sliding against my cock. Fuck, it's been so long.

I lean Hermione's back against the wall and together we struggle to pull her skirt out of the way, laughing and kissing the entire time. I manage to work a hand into the tight space between our bodies. Grateful for my long fingers, I hook the edge of her knickers and pull them aside, leaving her exposed for me.

I look down, trying desperately to keep my balance and not make a tit out of myself by coming all over the inside of her thighs. I watch with wonder as my cock slides into her waiting body.

"Christ, Hermione," I moan.

"So good," she replies, biting my neck gently.

It's been too long for either of us to last long, so I do my best to make it as good for her as I can. I angle my body, so I'm hitting her clit with every thrust (at least I hope I am). I can feel the heels of her shoes digging to my arse, the slight pain somehow adding to the pleasure of being inside her.

Hermione's hands are on my shoulders, as she arches to drive me deeper.

"Harder, Ron, harder," she pants.

I readjust my grip on her sweaty body, squeezing handfuls of her shapely arse. I slam into her as hard and as fast as my body will let me.

"…unnghhh…yesssss…"

"Close?" I grunt.

"Mmm-hhmm," she whimpers, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

"Love you… Er-my-nee."

She twists my hair around her fingers and pulls my mouth to hers, moaning in release.

I can feel her tight fanny squeezing my cock, taking all my spunk as I come groaning her name.

My legs feel like jelly, and my arms aren't doing much better. Hermione's not heavy by any stretch of the imagination, but a bloke can only take so much.

"Tired?" she asks, her face buried in my sweaty neck. I can feel her tongue flicking out to taste my skin.

"Fuck yeah. I think the only thing holding you against this wall right now is my cock – and that's not gonna last much longer."

"Guess we should go home then." She unlocks her legs from my waist and my drained dick flops out as we peel our bodies apart and start setting ourselves to rights.

"Harry's probably in bed by now," she says. "He was heading that way when I stopped by your flat looking for you after I left my parents' house. Mmmm, a nice soak in your tub sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

"Aren't you going home? Back to your parents' I mean."

"Wasn't planning on it. Do you want me to?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, good. That settles it."

"As much as I don't want to ruin this, Hermione… won't your parents be upset if you don't come home tonight?"

She rests her arms on my shoulders, fingers tugging gently on the hairs hanging over my collar. "I told them I was going to find my boyfriend and NOT to expect me until late Sunday."

"Wow, that's…wow." Classically eloquent, I am.

"Now that's settled, I'll meet you in the bath." She's off with a 'pop' again. Only this time she's heading to meet me, not leaving me.

I could get used to that.

* * *

**A/N: I hope I've explained Mr. Granger's attitude well enough... sorely tempted to right an outtake of his conversation with Hermione. In fact, I sort of feel a need to address Hermione's feelings in all this... thoughts?**

**Epilogue to follow soon! Thanks again for all your support! Spread the holiday spirit and leave a me a review :)**


	6. Epilogue

Just a quick bit of closure...

* * *

EPILOGUE

I triple-check the address on the inter-office memo I received from Hermione today, before paying the driver and getting out of the taxi.

I walk slowly up the stairs of what is obviously a Muggle building. It's not located too far from the Ministry, and I'm pleased to notice a narrow alley on the side of the building that could prove useful to Apparating visitors. I'll have to remember that spot.

Just as I approach the large front door, it swings open, revealing an elderly woman with a small dog in her arms. I grab the handle and open it wider for her to pass through.

"Such a polite young man," she comments. I can feel my ears start to redden. "Go right on up, she's expecting you." I swear she winks at me!

Once inside, I spot the lift, but I'm too excited to wait. I take the stairs two at a time, reaching the third floor in record time. I don't even have the chance to knock on the door before it flies open and Hermione rushes out.

"Finally!" she shouts, leaping into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and hugging my neck tightly.

I stagger slightly under her sudden attack, getting two handfuls of her round arse for my troubles.

"Oi woman! I'm barely five minutes late – not like you didn't see me today."

"I sure did," she practically purrs into my neck, planting kisses along my jaw. We've been a lot more successful at finding time together – 'specially during the work day. Don't think there's a supply closet at the Ministry we haven't visited in the past few months.

"Maybe we should take this inside?" I start to carry her toward the open door of her flat.

"No! Wait!" She jumps down and presses against my chest to keep me from walking any further.

"C'mon, I've waited almost three months for you to move in to your own place…"

"Then a few more minutes won't make any difference – besides, it'll be worth the wait."

I put my arms around her tiny waist and pull her close, whispering into her ear, "Promise?"

"Definitely." Fuck, I love when her voice gets all husky like that! She spins around in my arms and pulls her door closed.

"Um, Hermione?" I press up against her, getting harder as her arse cradles my cock. "I think we're supposed to be on the _other_ side of the door when you do that."

"Not if this is going to work," she says, pulling out her wand.

"Are you mental?" I hiss. "This is a _Muggle_ building, Hermione."

"Oh relax. Mrs. Grant is the only other tenant on this floor, and she's just left to walk her dog."

"Yeah, I saw her downstairs; she seemed to know who I was."

"I showed her your photo, she was quite taken with you. I think she has a soft spot for gingers."

"Well, there's nothing soft about this ginger." I whisper over her shoulder, thrusting against her bum for emphasis. "So, unless you want to test how sturdy this door is, I suggest you move this along."

"This might hurt a little..." She takes my left hand off her waist and holds it out in front of us. She uses her wand to make a small cut on my finger. Rather than dropping my blood on the doorknob, she fishes a small metal key out of her pocket. "I modified the spell a bit," she answers to my unasked question.

"Of course you did," I tease, watching over her shoulder as she squeezes drops of blood from my finger on to the key, which glows brighter with each drop.

Once the key stops glowing, she lifts my finger to her mouth and kisses it lightly. "All better."

She turns around again, sandwiched between me and the door, and holds the key out in her open palm. "Once you use the key in the lock, the wards should recognise you and you can Apparate directly inside. You can also use the front door – this is the only other key besides mine."

I take the key from her outstretched hand, bringing her palm to my lips for a kiss. "Thank you," I whisper. I reach down and put my key in the lock, feeling the magic flowing through me as I turn it. Hermione is still standing with her back to the door, her eyes locked on mine. Once the tingling stops, I turn the handle and give the door a push. Hermione backs into her flat, pulling me along by the hand.

"Now what?" I ask.

"Anything we want."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this look at Ron and Hermione trying to adjust to life together. I didn't intend for this to be a prequel, but if you've read my story "It's Not East Being Green" you'll see appearances by Archie Quinn and Anderson (who survived his injuries). I rather like this universe I've created for my favorite characters and think I'll be visiting it again soon!**

**Until then, thanks for reading and reviewing – and HAPPY NEW YEAR!**


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